


I have a Tromboner For You

by Crawlingthroughashes



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Highschool AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 02:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2450645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crawlingthroughashes/pseuds/Crawlingthroughashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Highschool AU where Jaime's in the marching band and Bart's on the Track Team. Basically, awkward dorks being awkward dorks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I have a Tromboner For You

When Bart rounded the corner, the first thought that flashed through his mind was-hey, nice jacket-and the second was that he had just collided with someone while running at full force. The rebound sent him flailing backwards, and he latched onto the arm of the guy he'd just run into. A guy who had wide, hazelnut colored eyes mottled with darker flecks of brown, and tousled hair that looked as if he had woken up, ran a hand through his hair, and left for school. 

"Hey, uh, sorry! Totally did not see you. Well, I did see you, but, only like, a millisecond before I bumped into you."

"It's fine," the reply was curt and halfhearted, but Bart could only focus on the accent. Spanish. He was predisposed to liking Hispanics; since, hello, Mexican food. Not that he was saying all Hispanics were Mexican. Just, you know, some.

Bart was jarred from his thoughts when the guy cleared his throat. Oh, right. His hand was still on the guy's arm. Bart quickly withdrew the offending appendage, and let his hand come to rest on his hip. 

"Well, I'd better get going," the guy said politely. "I'm late for practice."

"Right," Bart nodded eagerly, and he really needed to top referring to him as 'the guy'. "Hey, what's your name, anyways? 'Cause I keep referring to you as 'the guy' in my head, and it's starting to get kind of moded. Like when you repeat a phrase too often, or a word, and it just doesn't sound right? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, or anything. I could always make up a nickname. Not that I'll be thinking about you a lot-I just, uh..." 

"It's Jaime," he replied tiredly, but a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth betrayed his expression. "And sorry, but I really do need to go. Practice," he said simply. 

"Right, uh, good luck! I had Coach Lance for cross-country last semester. She can be pretty, uh, brutal. I'm Bart, by the way!" he called after Jaime's retreating form. This was so not crash. And by 'this,' Bart meant how his stomach was doing somersaults, and how an irrepressible smile was stretching across his face. 

-x-

Bart was definitely, one hundred percent, not obsessed with Jaime. He'd just developed a simple, minor crush. Emphasis on minor. So, he'd managed to figure out Jaime's last name (Reyes) and he'd memorized Jaime's locker number, but that could hardly be described as stalking. And it wasn't as if he'd enlisted his cousin's best friend to hack into the student database. Okay, so he _had_ asked, but Dick and Wally simply used it as an opportunity to tease him. 

Bart hummed to himself as he leaned against the end of the row of lockers. Jaime was at his locker further down, talking animatedly to one of his friends who was sporting long, dark hair that extended past his shoulders. Bart swallowed down the spike of jealousy he felt, and while he he couldn't quite make out what Jaime and his friend were talking about, he did manage to catch, "you know that kid's been staring at you for the past five minutes." 

'Kid?' Was he serious? Bart was a sophomore! And, okay, Jaime was a senior, but it wasn't like it was a whopping age difference. Jaime swiveled at his friend's words, locking eyes with Bart, who waved meekly. 

"Hey Bart," he greeted, and Bart took that as his cue to traipse towards them. 

"Ah, so that's Ba-" Jaime silenced him with an elbow to the ribs. 

Don't you have a date with Asami?" 

"Later Jaime," his friend snickered, before shouldering his backpack and turning to go. Bart really didn't like how he pronounced Jaime's name in such a husky voice. No one should have a husky accent. It seriously wasn't fair. 

"Sorry, about Tye," Jaime said with a weak laugh. "Did you need something?" 

"Oh uh," Bart was fairly certain his cheeks were redder than the letterman jacket Jaime was wearing. "I was wondering, uh, football season's almost over, and my cousin Wally used to play, he was also captain of the track team, and uh, maybe I could come to one of your games?" 

"Yeah," Jaime nodded distractedly, "one of my - wait, what?" 

Bart's gaze darted from Jaime's face to his letterman jacket, and back again. "You uh, don't you play football?" even as he said the words, the answer was clearly no. Oh no, what if Jaime had a boyfriend and he was wearing _his_ jacket? Well, at least that would mean Jaime was gay, right? "But you're..." Bart pointed to Jaime's jacket in lieu of words. 

"Oh, this? They give it out to the marching band, and I'm, uh, in band."

"Oh," Bart said faintly, wishing the ground would swallow him up. "What-what instrument do you play?" 

"Clarinet. Sorry, I know it's kinda lame." 

"I don't think band is lame," Bart said quickly. 

"Believe me," Jaime said with a laugh, "you should. Half of the guys only joined so they could say they played the 'tromboner'." 

"Oh," Bart said again, because _oh_ , that was a word he _really_ didn't need to hear coming from Jaime. _Coming_ from Jaime. Oh, god. "I gottagobye!" Bart crowed, before bolting down the hallway. He was a terrible person. Or, a terribly stupid one, anyways. 

-x-

Bart made sure to avoid Jaime after that. He figured he'd already made a big enough fool of himself; why not quit while he was ahead? When they did meet again, it was entirely by chance. 

"Hey," a tentative voice said in his ear. He could feel warm breath ghosting over the back of his neck. The book Bart was holding snapped shut as he simultaneously jerked his head backwards, smacking into Jaime. 

A soft "ow!" came unbidden from Jaime's lips. 

"S-sorry! I did't mean to smack into you. I just, uh, fast reflexes?"

"Naw, it's my fault," Jaime winced, rubbing his nose, "I shouldn't have snuck up on you. So what are you reading?"

"Oh, I'm just here to get a book for," he gestured to the table vaguely, letting his brain buffer. What was the name of that class again?

Jaime darted a glance at a book lying on the table. "Spanish class?" he asked, clearly impressed. "How's that going?"

"Not too well," Bart murmured, and why was he still talking?

"I could, uh, tutor you, if you'd like. Spanish is my first language."

"Yes! I mean, sí. That'd be crash." Except no, no, it _really_ wouldn't.

"Crash," Jaime echoed, testing out the word, "does Friday work for you?"

"I'm free," Bart managed to stutter out, and after Jaime had scrawled down his address on a piece of paper, and said a hasty good-bye, Bart turned back to the table, sinking into a chair. Normally, he would've been ecstatic. Not only did he have a date-okay, _study date,_ but he was going to Jaime's house. On Friday. Except, the Spanish book on the table? That had been there before Bart even got to the library. And the second language class he was taking? Not Spanish. Why did he sign up for German, anyways? Like who in their right mind opts for German over Spanish? "Scheisse," he muttered. 

-x-

By Thursday afternoon, Bart had worked out three possible options of going about Friday. He could:  
a) print off a bunch of Spanish worksheets off the internet and pretend they were assigned in his nonexistent Spanish class  
b) Tell Jaime he'd oh-so-conveniently forgotten his homework at school. (Except, knowing Jaime, he'd probably offer to walk with Bart back to the school to pick his work up.)  
c) Or, he could say they were just supposed to take notes.  
Bart didn't really consider telling the truth as a viable option. 

"Hola Bart. ¿Cómo estás?" Jaime asked as he opened the front door. He was dressed in grey slacks and a black t-shirt that hugged his figure nicely. 

"Uh, bien?" Bart gulped out in response. That was Spanish, right? Or was it French?

"Let's head to my room. My sister Milagro's watching TV down here. Justice League reruns." 

"Oh. That's a good show," Bart said, stepping over the welcome mat that read 'BIENVENIDOS' and promptly following Jaime upstairs. 

"Who's your Spanish teacher?" Jaime inquired.

"Um... Ms. Gomez?" 

"Oh, I don't think I've met her. I had Ms. Garcia back in freshman year. I thought taking Spanish would boost my grade, give me an easy A since I'm bilingual, but apparently you're not allowed to take it if you can already speak it fluently. They ended up transferring me to Sports Med. I spent the semester learning about splints and casts, the importance of stretching, etc. Oh, and we also had to practice bandaging hands and wrists. My partner always had really sweaty hands. It was pretty gross." Bart quickly wiped his palms on his jeans, before following Jaime into his bedroom. Textbooks and clothing articles were strewn across the bed and the floor. 

"Believe it or not, but I'd already tidied a lot of it up before you got here."

"Oh, uh, you should see my room."

"Yeah," Jaime agreed, but his mouth snapped shut immediately after. Bart pretended he hadn't noticed, and surveyed the room once more. Jaime's instrument case was propped up against his bed. "Are you learning any new songs for band?" he asked, cringing silently. What else would they be doing in band? 

"Uh, yeah, actually. I'm supposed to practice over the weekend. I'll play you a song, if you want, while you set up your homework."

"Sure!" he said enthusiastically, bobbing his head up and down, "that's be crash." Bart perched on the edge of Jaime's bed, feeling the mattress dip slightly under his weight. He hugged his pencil box to his chest as he watched Jaime open his pencil box with a subdued click. Jaime's eyes fluttered shut as he began to play, his long lashes casting shadows across his face. Bart's eyes dropped to Jaime's mouth as he brought the instrument to his lips. His expression was neutral and calm, the way one's is when they're asleep. Bart probably shouldn't have been staring so unabashedly, but Jaime was gorgeous. Beautiful, but not in the feminine sense. The tune was slow, lulling Bart into a false sense of security, and he was completely unprepared when the song ended and Jaime's eyes reopened. Embarrassed to be caught staring so openly, Bart flinched, and scrambled for his binder, accidentally knocking it to the floor. 

"I'll get it," Jaime announced, bending down to scoop up the loose papers. "Here you-" his voice faltered. "Uh, Bart? How come your schedule says you're taking German?" 

"Er, because, I sort of am?"

"Then why-?"

"I wanted to hang out with you!" he blurted. 

Jaime stared at him for an agonizingly long minute, before throwing his head back and laughing. The sound was throaty and rich, and Bart never wanted to stop hearing Jaime laugh. 

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Jaime demanded after a moment. His voice was solemn, but he was grinning. 

"I wanted to hang out with you," Bart repeated. 

"Then why didn't you just ask me out?" Bart's eyes widened. "Crap. No, I meant... I meant to say, why did't you just ask to hang out?" Now it was Jaime's turn to be flustered. 

"But that's not what you said," Bart cried gleefully, a teasing inflection to his voice. "Do _you_ want to go out with me?" 

A faint red blush crept up Jaime's neck. 

Bart rose to his feet, stepping forwards so that they were within closer proximity. Bart stood on his tiptoes so that they were almost at level height, though Jaime was still a good inch or two taller. "How about, I'll go to one of your band concerts, if you'll come to one of my track meets?" 

"Deal," Jaime said without missing a beat. 

"Crash." With a lascivious wink, Bart added, "It's a date."

**Author's Note:**

> *Laughs at the title* I'm not funny. But I wish I was. Please comment/leave kudos if you enjoyed.


End file.
